Sum of All
by PragmaticHominid
Summary: Drabble Version The natives of Yardrat are an altruistic people, who share a semi-collective consciousness, but recently their society has been under attack. When an injured alien lands in their midst, they are forced to make hard decisions.


_**The Sum of All**_

The alien's recessed eyes fluttered shut, and - curiosity overcoming their initial fear - the people crept in to study it.

"Is it dead?" one asked the assembly, as a second bent to place his hand on the alien's chest.

Life quivered under the hard muscle and bone. His hand came away streaked with blood and soot. "No," he said, and looked over his shoulder, back at the trail of destruction that the alien's ship had torn through the city, and the rest of the people turned as one to look with him.

Another picked up his thought. "There's more than are needed here," he said, "and people may be injured or trapped inside those buildings." Three-quarters of the crowd peeled off to join the growing teams assembling around the rubble.

One of the remainders said, "What is it?" and another added, "Why is it here?" while a third asked, "Where did it come from?" and a forth said, "What happened to it? What hurt it?" and the group as a whole began to sway anxiously as questions piled upon each other unanswered.

One individual spoke above the mounting voices. He had the jittery manner of one who'd lost too many comrades to tragedy, and no longer knew to whom he was connected. "It may be of a kind with those who attacked Eastern Collective last year."

The rest of the assembly, six in all, looked from one to the other, reaching a quick and grim consensus. "Tell us everything," one said, another adding, "We can't act appropriately without knowing."

Those who had witnessed the attack had deemed the details of the thing to be too distressing to disseminate among the wider population, and the six gathered around the alien understood why now; the imagines that flooded the communal space between their private consciousnesses were the sort that changed an individual's ability to interact with others forever. One would always be isolated, knowing of such awful things in such detail, out of fear of harming others with that knowledge.

The strangers had been shadow-minded things, shallow and cheerful killers, and it had been impossible to reach any sort of understanding with them. They'd been driven away, but there was no knowing when they might return with greater numbers.

"We should learn from them, and do as they did," the one who'd been there himself said, "and kill it while it's helpless."

The six who were new to the idea again began to sway. "It doesn't look like them. How could they have been together?"

"None of the strangers looked similar," another said, slowly, because this was puzzling to them all.

"They wore the same style of clothing. They were alike in that."

"This one's garbed differently," one said, pointing at the orange tatters the alien wore around its waist.

"The vessel is the same."

"If it's allowed to wake it might do violence. The others didn't mind killing children."

The one who'd touched the alien waved his hands for silence. "The question is: Is it one of us?"

The response was unanimous. "No, it's no part of us."

Catching the flow, another said, "Then should we change ourselves on its account?"

"We aren't meant to kill helpless people who haven't done us any intentional harm."

"That's them. It isn't us. We're the people here together, and we aren't like them."

A last said, "I won't allow strangers change us into something we don't want to be."

They took care of the alien, until it was well enough to go back to its own people.

***

Short drabble about Son Goku's arrival on Yardrat from the POV of the natives. I did this for a contest on the DeviantArt DBZ fanfic group. It probably would have come out a lot differently if I hadn't been limited to 600 words, but I think keeping it short was the right choice.

The idea that I was trying to convey - I have no idea if I was successful or not - was that the Yardratians function with a semi-collective consciousness. From what little we saw of them, it seemed to me that they were reacting collectively to emotional and physical stimulus.

The title is taken from a song called "Community," by Mirah and the Spectratone International. It's a beautiful tribute to ants, and worth looking up if you haven't heard it. I probably listened to the song at least 100 times while I was working on this story.


End file.
